Colette & Vandevere
by LaMarwy
Summary: Collection of one-shots with Colette Marchant and V.A. Vandevere, from Dumbo 2019. [I accept prompts for this pairing!]
1. The Dinner

Un-betaed. For Karly, thanks for the prompt ;)

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The Dinner

Early that evening, Vandevere had asked her to dress up nicely for the upcoming dinner.  
She needed to impress the investors, put all the goods in display and act as desirable as possible and that, of course, was exactly what she did.

Colette smirked at herself through the crooked reflection on the glass, the red lipstick still perfectly defined as she ate with grace, careful not to smear it around her mouth, and her hair was perfectly combed with shiny pearls and few feathers on the side. She straightened her back, shifting closer to the edge of the chair and she could also see part of her chest, squeezed into a tight corset which, at the moment, was causing her some troubles to breathe and swallow her food. The discomfort was bearable, however, even because Vandevere seemed to be impressed by how her bosom would appear, so luscious and full and not constricted any more behind the concealing fabric of her training outfit or costumes.

Maybe her future was about to be decided at that very table, Vandevere's dream of becoming a real magnate of the cinema and making her a movie star in his production pictures. When he first talked about it, it all seemed so exciting and entailing, but now she was sadly realizing that she'd agreed only because his face had lightened up at the idea.

If it were up to her, she would've never become a movie star. She was more than happy to be his little Queen of the Heavens, or whatever the billboard said, and perform on her lyra. Being an aerialist was her dream and she was living it; she didn't care about the rest.

And yet, Vandevere was the boss, the one who decided whether she would perform or end up on the streets again, so whatever he asked, Colette had to oblige him. After all, it was just a little thing and he promised that it wouldn't have interfered with her rehearsals or training.

For some reason, however, for how much she tried, she couldn't concentrate. She would fidget impatiently on her chair, incapable of listening to one single word they were saying. Often, she would end up just nodding and chirp a little 'oui', but without knowing exactly to what she had just agreed to.

Vandevere was getting irked. She could feel his eyes on her more insistently as time passed. He talked and talked, charming those gentlemen at the table as he did with her little less than half a year ago, back in Paris. There was a time where she would stand up and yell that he was just a fraud, that he was using some sort of spell on them and she would tell them to flee, but now she was just sitting there, sipping her wine, as those stupid men were getting bamboozled by Vandevere and his fantastic tales.

Colette was getting bored. Vandevere couldn't charm her anymore with his talks and those men were so completely caught up with him that it was getting pathetic.

She crossed her legs under the table and tapped her feet a couple of times, then toyed a little with her shoe, letting it slip out of her heel a couple of time, with increasing energy. Before she could even realize it, she kicked once too hard, and the shoe completely fell off her foot.

Colette hardly suppressed a whimper, her blue eyes wide in panic. She only hoped that no one had heard that dull thud of her shoe falling to the ground.

She peeked at her left, looking at Vandevere with the corner of her eye, trying to get any sign of vexation on his face, but surprisingly, her boss was just looking right at her a quite mysterious grin creeping through his thin lips. He didn't seem to be angry, nor was he questioning her silently… he was just staring at her.

Colette frowned confused, taking one last sip from her glass before putting it down. Of course, she wasn't listening to a single word they were saying, but she was under the impression that he was. She couldn't be farther from the truth.

When one of those gentlemen spoke, it was clear by the following silence that he'd just asked a question to which Vandevere was supposed to answer. He fidgeted and stammered as he struggled not to make a bad impression.

Colette hardly suppressed a snort.

If none of them were interested in that conversation, though Vandevere had forced himself to focus on the gentlemen's proposition again, there was no reason why she shouldn't try to avoid her boredom and make something out of that disastrous dinner.

She waited a few minutes, made sure that Vandevere was caught up with his speech and stretched her shoeless foot toward him. She continued eating her meal, casually peeking her boss' reaction with the corner of her eye.

Vandevere had jolted forward, hitting slightly the table with his chest when she brushed her foot on the length of his leg, from the ankle to his knee. He offered a small apology and threw a quick a glare to Colette, which she easily ignored.

Colette dabbed innocently her mouth with the napkin and put it back on her lap. All the voices around her had become just a distant buzz of indistinct noise. She stretched her hand a retrieved her water glass, her foot resting on top of his knee, then she moved.

She took a longer sip and let her foot snaking up his thigh, slowly sliding to the inner part. She beamed at herself when she felt his legs trapping her with a jolt of discomfort, but unluckily for Vandevere, that bought her foot even closer to were his thighs jointed and the heat coming from his flesh engulfed her foot.

Colette stilled, contentedly curling her toes with a teasingly slow movement as she probed her foot around, trying to free herself from his hold.

Vandevere let out a soft whimper and his next phrase came out cracked and uneven.

Colette stared, throwing a sympathetic smile at her boss.

"C'est bon?" She asked innocently, curling her toes once again.

Vandevere seemed battled. She knew he perhaps wanted to strangle her right now, but he forced himself to conceal his real feelings and just nodded dismissively, continuing with his negotiation.

Colette teased him a little more, but after a few minutes, she got bored once again. She was half slouching on her chair when she decided to abruptly straighten her back and brutally snap her foot from his thigh, causing him to whimper again. She ignored him completely, uninterested of what she might've caused or if his face would bear any sign of vexation.

She knew that she couldn't reserve the same treatment for one of the two gentlemen she had in front of her, but she could definitely play with them. After all, wasn't that why she took part in that dinner, to see if she could seduce the general audience like she charmed the crowd every night?

"Do you have a cigarette, monsieur?" She asked suddenly, interrupting the conversation.

A pregnant silence fell in the room, all eyes drawn to her as she carelessly propped her elbow on the table, breaking her perfectly neat posture. Her icy-blue eyes were staring rather densely at the men in front of her and even if she didn't even remember his name nor his role in all of that, she was looking at him as if he was a bird and she a famished cat.

That chubby man was looking back at her, transfixed. He shook himself from that daze and patted his own jacket nervously.

"Why- yes, Ms Marchant. I think, yes."

"It's Miss." She corrected immediately with a grin.

The other nodded and she hardly acknowledged the faint noise that echoed through the walls, which she presumed it came from Vandevere's cane since he used to tap it on the floor when something irritated him.

Colette pushed herself up, leaning forward over the table and almost knocking down a crystal decanter. She patiently waited for the man to be done with his searching, gently swaying back and forth.

When the man presented her the cigarette, she didn't move either of her hands. She just parted her lips and gave him a wink. The man swallowed hard, offering with quivering fingers the cigarette, which she took with her gritted pearly-white teeth.

"Tu peux m'allumer?" She whispered with a low breath through her grin.

The man was starting to sweat, which only made her internally beam even more. His hand searched more inside his jacket until he brought the lighter next to the other end of the cigarette, opening the little shiny object to let out the flame.

Colette closed her red lip on the cigarette, drawing a long breath until the paper started to burn, producing a thin thread of smoke. She exhaled before moving back, blurring the man's face with a white cloud.

"Merci." She simply chirped, leaning back into her chair. "Please, continue." She said then, waving dismissively her hand.

And that they tried, as she peacefully smoked her cigarette, half slouched on her chair, bouncing lasciviously her crossed leg and even her shoeless foot, showing no shame whatsoever. She hardly recorded them getting fussy, maybe they argued once or twice, but for some reason, she didn't care.

They called the dinner off after quite some time, and Vandevere showed them to the elevator door with an angry scowl that he hardly concealed. They quickly bid their goodbyes and Colette merely nod at them, wishing them a good night.  
"Come to my office." Barked Vandevere, storming out on his own.

Colette nodded, sighing loudly as she was left alone in the empty room, the tapping of her single heel echoing through the walls.

...

"What was that all about?" Vandevere yelled at her, pacing back and forth in front of the wide window, Dreamland stretching behind him with all the attractions and rides off for the night.

Colette sighed, crossing her arms.

"What'u mean?" She asked innocently, her French accent coming totally out.

"We lost the investors because you kept distracting me!" He barked, moving his hands all over around him, his perfectly combed hair coming undone as he got agitated.

"Moi?" Colette retorted, placing her palm over her own chest. "It is not my fault if you get easily distracted. I did nothing."

Vandevere glared at her.  
"That was nothing?" He asked meaningfully, pointing at her foot with his forefinger. "With your foot under the table, your glances, your goddamn wine-"

"What's with my wine?" She asked surprised, frowning in confusion. She had planned the foot thing out of boredom and she played with the gentlemen too, but the wine? She didn't plan anything with the wine.

"The way you sipped it." Vandevere said, lowering his voice. Colette couldn't be sure because it was dark even though the lamp was on, but she imagined that his cheeks had grown somewhat reddish. "And then when you asked that cigarette." He pursued, bloating his chest as he got back his confidence. "I found it highly inappropriate."

"I thought you wanted me to seduce them." Colette retorted, swaying on her spot. Her shiny dress swayed with her, the glass and fake diamonds clinking together as well as her earrings. She put out a pose, tilting slightly her head to show him that she'd worn a lot of make-up like he ordered and also the red lips she brought from Paris.

"With your appearance, not actually seduce them! You went too far." Retorted him. "You practically rubbed them in his face!"

Colette instinctively looked down at her own chest, her bosom still squeezed by the tight corset. Yes, maybe she gave that man a good view, especially when she slightly hit the decanter.

"Alors?" She said after a few seconds, shrugging a little. "Are you jalouse?" She asked with a smirk, the word coming out like a perfect mix between English and French.

Vandevere glared once again, raising his cane as if it was an extension of his own arm.  
"No, I'm not jealous." He retorted, slightly vexed and almost correcting her accent.

"Oui, I think you are." She replied with confidence, walking slowly toward him. At each step, her dress would rustle and clink into a confused and yet dazzling melody.

"You're going too far, ma cherie." He suddenly smirked, the corner of his mouth bending awkwardly up. That was the pet name he used whenever he wanted something from her, but this time, he used it as a warning of some sort: Colette was testing him, see how far she could go and he was determined to show her who's boss, reminded her which were her limits. "Everything you see, here, it's mine: Dreamland, this room, every soul that works for me, it's mine."

Colette took in a small breath, stopping by his desk. She leaned to its edge, half-sitting, half-standing as she watched him.  
"You can't own people." She snorted, rolling her eyes.

"I own you." He replied promptly, smirking allusively. At that, Colette realized she couldn't talk back. Seeing her defeated, made his smile grow wider. "Don't worry, we'll get other investors and I'll make you a movie star like I made you the Queen of the Heavens." He said in a cooing voice, almost as if he was talking to a child, then pecked a soundly kiss on her cheekbone. That got on her nerves but made her best effort not to show him.

"Now," He went on with the same tone, but his clear eyes had gotten more demanding, darker, even. "I think someone misbehaved at dinner." He said, pursing his lips.

"So what?" She snorted, looking at him, her face blank. "You want to punish me?" She asked with a disbelieving smirk, her French accent still slipping out.

Vandevere lifted his arm with a swift movement, latching the handle of his cane right on the corset, the cold wood trapped between the fabric and her breasts.  
"You said it." He replied with a grin.


	2. The Voyeur

Un-betaed. Please review! ;)

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The Voyeur

Colette gripped harder on the ring, getting ready for the next flip. She enhanced the rocking with a firm hip swing and tried a backflip. She held her breath as she landed somewhat ungracefully, still managing to stay on and avoid an unpleasant fall.

She internally swore, sighing aloud as she tried again. She wasn't sure if she'd seen right when, several minutes before, she'd spotted a shadow coming in her rehearsal tent. She thought it was Vandevere, at first, telling her to come in the tower: the following day she would have to go on stage, so he needed to inspect her body in case of any flaws, like always. He liked to watch even where her costume would cover her skin, and of course, it took him usually more than necessary even if there was nothing wrong.

Colette continued with her training, despite the late hours, and forgot about that shadow quickly since no one made his presence known. For some reason, however, she had the strangest feeling of being observed.

She practiced some new movements until she felt spent and uncomfortably sweaty and decided it was finally enough for the day, so she jumped off the lyra to land stiffly on the net with a backflip and a graceful scissoring toward the end. She pretended she was surrounded by a crowd and heaved herself down the net with a smooth movement.

"Magnifique, ma cherie!"

Colette spun on her heels, her breathing cut. She heard someone clapping slowly and sighed to ease her heart as the fright slip off her tensed body.

"You startled me." She glared, talking slowly as she strived not to let out too much of her accent. "How long have you been watching?" She inquired, her eyebrow crooked as she searched blindly with her hand behind, then grabbed a robe and put it over he shoulder to shield her body from the chilly air: she was completely drenched and she certainly didn't want to catch a cold right the day before the show.

"Enough." He shrugged, coming out from his narrowed shady spot he'd found; the yellowish light bathed him from the side while the other half of his face was dark, making his grin get almost creepy, in a way. Colette studied his face like he was some grotesque illustration in some children's book. "I like your new.. thing." He said dismissively, gesturing around with his cane. "Just try to be more pretty when you do it." He suggested with a grimace.

"I'm just tired." She justified, crossing her arms. She was getting irked at that remark, but of course, she couldn't just let him know that she didn't need his expertise. "I did it perfectly the other few times."

"Oh, I saw that." He agreed. "If you could do it slower, maybe.." He murmured casually, letting his phrase trailing off.

"I would get the gown over my face." She spat. "There are les enfantes, mon chere," She said in a lower voice, trying not too sound too ironic. "I'm sure the fathers would be glad to have a good look at my legs as I do my split while I'm upside-down, but I don't know about their wives."

"I would certainly enjoy the view." He said with what he thought to be a seductive grin.

Colette put out her best effort not to snort.  
"Oh, I know you would." She replied then, surprising herself when her voice sounded almost alluringly low, just as if she'd planned it.

"So, are you done?" He asked impatiently at some point.

Colette shook her head.  
"Not at all. It's late and no one will tidy up this place before tomorrow, but I need to warm-up first thing in the morning, so I have to do it." She explained casually, placing her hands on her hips. She tried to study his features, getting any hint from his expression that could tell her what did he had in mind: yes, she knew he wanted to drag her to the tower where his apartments were, but now that she told him she would stay there a little longer, what were his plans for the next hour or so? "Alors?" She spurred.

"I'll wait." He simply stated, perching himself on the lonely stool in front of the mirror where some of her stuff laid, forgotten or discarded.

Colette stared at him for a moment, then shrugged and started to tidy up the place to her liking. Just before she could get the work started, a soft breeze of air suddenly hit her bare leg; she lowered her glance and only then she noticed that despite being enough to shield her body from the draughts, her robe was plain see-through.

No wonder Vandevere had decided to stay. She hid a smirk and shook her head: men. So delightfully predictable and needy in their basic and physical urges.

She sighed and started to check the poles and wires, took down the lyra to inspect it and polish the metal, at the end, she even scooped up some dirt from the floor, after retrieving the net and placing it in one corner of the tent.

As time passed, Colette got increasingly vexed. Not only he did not offer any help, but he also stood there the entire time as she struggled to lift things and fought against the counterweights, grinning at her as he tapped his short nails on the handle of his cane, his eyes, almost unblinking, latched on every move she made.

She thought it would be a relaxing process, as usual when she was cleaning her places, but for some reason, she found herself more fatigued and sweaty than before. Vandevere couldn't take his eyes off of her and the fact that he stubbornly would remain silent as he stared, was getting on her nerves.

He was enjoying the view, every time she would offer him her back or bent down to retrieve some of the old safety wires, but then she realized that he would call her in his apartment and prolong that inspection, demanding her also to remove every garment she had. Of course, to no use, since he pretended to have her in bed early the nights before show time; he would have fantasized about his Queen of the Heavens on his own, while she would serve as some living dirty-magazine picture and send off to bed like a child. It wasn't fair.

"Is this one of yours?" He asked casually, pointing at some peacock feathers laying on the ground. It was literally inches from him, by his feet, but of course, he was too comfy on his stool to get up and pick it up for her.

Colette sighed silently. His efforts were miserable while he thought himself as the best seducer in the whole world and that was why, perhaps, she liked to play with him so much.

She slowly walked to him, her blue eyes never leaving him, and when she was closer, he obliged his silent request and bent down directly in front of him, taking her time during the whole process.

"Merci." She chirped as she straightened her back. Colette winked at him, smiling behind the feather as she pressed it slightly on her lips.

Vandevere stared with a grin for a solid minute before raising his cane again, pointing somewhere behind her.

"There's another one." He said mischievously.

Colette snorted, letting the feather fall, much to his dismay. This was getting ridiculous.

"Mon pote, let me get this straight." He spat, her eyes inflamed. "Are you going to eye-fuck me all night or are you actually going to do something about it?"

Vandevere frowned, gaping a couple of times as she stared at him, her expression demanding as she tapped impatiently her foot on the ground.

"I'm not sure I like your tone." He mumbled back.

"I'm not sure I like your plans for the night." She retorted, walking smoothly over him ans halting just when their faces were inches apart. "You're going to drag me in your apartment, get me undressed, stare as much as you like and only when you're satisfied and adequately aroused, you'll send me back to my room." She said in a titillating voice, sliding one of her arms behind his neck. "I say it's not fair."

"Well, I don't have to perform tomorrow." He pointed out, tentatively wrapping his hands behind her back. He dropped his cane to do that, which dully thumped on the ground. "I can enjoy myself, on my own, as much as I like." He told her, trying to mimic her voice, with much less result.

"What makes you think that once I get back in my apartment, I won't have fun on my own as well?" She retorted with a smirk, crooking up her eyebrow. The man clearly wasn't expecting that, and his blank expression only made her viciously smile.

Colette rose on her tiptoes, drawing her body closer to his. She started to glide allusively against his knee until she felt his hold growing firmer, the distance between them easily gone. She gripped his shoulders and heaved herself up, sitting on his lap.

Vandevere could feel the heat reverberating from her body, rather pleasantly too in one particular spot. Her skin was glimmering due to the sweat, her bosom rising and falling madly as she breathed, hitting his chest with a rhythmic pace.

His greedy hands dropped easily and grouped up the thin fabric of her robe, his fingers squeezing without losing any time at the rounded flesh of her behind.

Colette grazed her teeth around his ear as she moved teasingly above him, the welcoming friction only smothered by the layers of fabric that separated them.

"Cherie," He grunted, his voice husky. "If you're planning on ruining your performance, tomorrow-"

"It's only going to make it better." She replied, cutting him off almost instantly.

Vandevere swallowed the lump in his throat. She was moving so slowly and so closer that it was getting uncomfortable to remain seated like that.

"Then I suggest taking this to my apartments." He grinned, detaching from her enough to throw a mischievous glance at her, to which she answered with a matching smirk. "I shall inspect your looks from a different, horizontal position."

Colette struggled not to roll her eyes. If that was the man's best effort to sound seductive, it was disappointing, and yet she knew it was the best she could get. She dug her fingers between his short hair and tugged, forcing him to tilt slightly back his head.

"As long as you won't just stare." She whispered, her breath crashing on his open mouth.

Vandevere grinned again, his whole body fidgeting in anticipation.

"I wouldn't dare, cherie."


	3. It's Just a Trick

Un-betaed. Please review! ;)

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JOHNHAMMOND1993 says: **Colette and Vandevere are married, but Vandevere is so caught up running Dreamland that he has not been able to spend time with her recently. One day, a child who is at the park saves Colette from being injured in an accident and Vandavere rewards the child and cancels the rest of his plans for the day to spend the day with his wife. Remember, "Adventure is out there!**"

Dear JOHNHAMMOND1993, although not my style, I didn't want to disappoint you. Please accept my try; for the sake of the fic and the characters involved, I've made your child a teen and Vandevere and Colette not really married but pretending to be for the public, just to match the rough idea that came to my mind while reading the prompt.

Titles from the final line of _La Grande Bellezza_, 2013.

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3\. It's just a trick

Colette swayed on her trapeze, her mind completely out-focused. It should've been her day off and Vandevere had promised her lunch and dinner, along with a stroll during the afternoon, crossing Dreamlands hand in hand as they waved at the visitors and signed autographs for the admirers. It was something they used to do frequently now, to bond directly with the public; it was something that brought Vandevere more money, more fame, more popularity – and then the press flocked each day demanding more and more.

And yet there she was, swinging on her lyra with a bored expression, practicing her new tricks because Vandevere was nowhere to be found. His man came into her rooms early that morning, announcing that he would've been too busy to spend the day with her: new investors to value, he said. That animal hadn't even had the guts to tell her in person!

For the public, they were the happily married couple, always supporting each other. He the wealthy tycoon while she the bright star who made him shine. Together, they were invincible, the winning pair, beauty and brain. It was all for show, all on the outside.

In reality, she was getting tired of being called his wife when he didn't behave like a husband: he didn't particularly care for her, not when it wasn't convenient, at least.

Colette felt suddenly irked: she was the fool, not him. She was the one who still hoped to be considered, to be treated fairly by him, as a sort of wife even if she wasn't. She was responsible for her own fate and her own sorrow – that needed to stop.

She gripped the handle on her lyra and attempted a backflip. The first went by smoothly, so she tried another. All of a sudden, the curtains of the rehearsing tent flapped open, a young male voice announcing unceremoniously its owner entrance. Colette slipped.

Her mouth opened up into a silent gasp, her eyes fixed on the ring swinging by itself, shrinking in size alarmingly as she dropped into thin air. She waited for the safety nets to arrest her fall, but instead, she found herself laying into a young lad's muscular embrace. Her arms automatically flung to his neck, clinging at him as she was still falling.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" Asked him, slightly panting, his eyes wide in horror.

"Oui." Colette gasped back, blinking in confusion. The boy was barely adult, maybe not even sixteen years old, with black eyes and dark, short hair; despite his gentle face and innocent features, Colette could feel his muscles popping out under his shirt. "Thank you, for saving me." She managed to whisper. "You're very strong." She remarked.

The boy put her down and giggled embarrassed, his cheeks turning immediately red.  
"I was looking for Mr. Vandevere." The boy muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "They told me I would find him here."

Colette let out a snort.  
"Unfortunately, he's busy." She answered promptly, her voice bearing hints of annoyance.

"Then maybe you can help me, Mrs. Vandevere."

Colette tried not to recoil at the name. She'd always hated when someone referred to her using it, but after all those years, she'd managed to cover her disgust with a bright smile and a collected flutter of eyelashes, like the most in love of wives would react when hearing the name of her beloved.

She studied for a quick moment the boy in front of her. He's saved her life, the least she could do was listening to him.  
"Go on." She spurred.

"Name's Clark, ma'am. I'm here to see Mr. Vandevere, you see – I'm strong, very strong."

Colette smiled sympathetically. She knew that look, she knew that sparkle in his eyes.  
"Come with me, then. I'll take you to him."

Colette slipped on her robe and lead the boy up until the tower, where Vandevere's office was. She hopped inside the elevator, Clark in tow as he walked silently. He checked himself into the mirror and flattened his shirt right before the door opened on the last floor.

Colette exited first, warding off with a quick gesture of her hand when the footmen guarding his office door warned her about the boss being busy. She knocked once, twice, and when no answer came, she pushed the handle and stormed in, a calm smile painted on her lips.

"Bonjour, mon cher." She gleefully said, a note of sarcasm in her voice that no one would get. Clark slipped in right after her, a second before the doors closed behind his back automatically.

"Colette." Vandevere glared at her, raising his head from the papers scattered around his desk. "What are you doing here? Who's this?" He asked, twitching his nose.

"Clark, sir." The boy stammered, clearly intimidating by Vandevere's presence. He, on the other hand, seemed quite satisfied and proud of the reaction.

"What is he doing here, Colette? I've got things to do." He protested right after, eyeing the clock.

The aerialist rolled her eyes.  
"I know you have. But he just saved my life and I promised him you would hear him." She said calmly, like nothing serious had happened. It was a test for her boss – the one who should've been her husband – to see if he was actually listening to her. After a couple of instants, Vandevere's eyes drifted on her. "I slipped and fell from the trapeze." She explained.

"Don't be ridiculous, Colette! You've got nets." He replied with a scoff.

"The nets were loose, sir." Clark cut in, his voice barely above breath. Being the office a large room, mostly hollow, his words were carried around with a soft echo.

Vandevere glared at him in disgust.

"At least pretend you care." Colette scolded, obviously referring to more than one thing. Vandevere, fortunately, caught her hint and leaned back in his chair, silently inviting the boy to talk and tell what he had to say.

"Thank you, Mr. Vandevere." He beamed, already over the moon. "As I was telling and proving your wife that I'm really strong and -"

"We don't need a strongman at Dreamland." Vandevere interrupted.

Colette folded her arms, glaring at her boss. She suddenly felt a sort of protective instinct toward the boy.  
"Give him a chance, mon cher." She almost pleaded.

Vandevere stared back, shifting his firm glance from the two people inside his office.  
"We have wonders, mystiques – I don't need a simple strongman! Your kind belongs to traveling circuses. I don't have a place for you, here." He shook slowly his head, trying to make himself clear. "It's nothing personal, my young lad, it's business. You'll understand."

Clark's smiled and enthusiasm had completely drained out of his body, but being a polite human being, he bowed his head.  
"Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Vandevere." He said.

"Here. For your trouble." Vandevere took a gold coin from his jacket and threw it with his thumb toward the boy. Clark immediately caught it. "Good catch." The tycoon praised.

After the boy had gone, Colette was still with her arms crossed, glaring at Vandevere with intent, fidgeting on the spot and tapping her foot, waiting for her boss to notice her vexation.  
"Why did you do that?" She asked with a raspy voice. "He saved my life."

"Did what, cherie?" He questioned back, completely calm as he returned to his papers. "We don't need plain acts. Just think a lad lifting his weights compared to you soaring in the air. Besides, if you'd been more careful when you're up there-"

"I wouldn't have been up there in the first place if you'd stick to our plan for the day!" She snapped back. "You've been rude to him." She sighed, spinning on her heels.

"On the contrary, Colette, I was being honest." Said Vandevere perfectly collected. Then, he sighed, raising his glance on her face and frowned. "What's bothering you so much?" He asked and his voice sounded genuinely preoccupied.

Colette turned slightly her head, peeking at him with the corner of her eye over her shoulder. Sometimes he liked to play husband and wife and those times he was damn good in faking his feelings, pretending he cared.

"You were supposed to spend the day with me." She snorted. She tried to show it didn't really trouble her, but her voice gave her away.

"Are you unhappy?" Vandevere asked rhetorically. "You never slipped from the trapeze and you always double-check the nets. What happened today?"

Colette turned to face him completely again. She tightened her jaw.  
"I feel like I'm at your disposal." She blurted out. "Everybody thinks we're happy and supportive to one another, while I feel like I'm one of your pretty toy you play with when it's convenient."

Vandevere immediately stood up from his chair. In a couple of steps or more, he was beside her, his large hands placed on each of her slender shoulders.

"We work so well as husband and wife because we're a perfect team, ma cherie." He said, looking straight into her eyes. Perhaps he was just charming her with his sweet talks, like always, maybe he really meant it, she could never really tell. "I'll tell you what, now. You let me finish with my papers and we'll spend the rest of the day together." He beamed, smacking a loud kiss on her jawline.

Colette swallowed the lump in her throat. Was he really feeling guilty? She didn't know. Was he just giving her the sweetener to keep her quiet? The only thing she knew was that he had the last say on everything – like with Clark. If he'd decided that he was going to take her out to dinner and make everything better, it would be like that and she would have obeyed, because, really, what else she could do?

"I'm not just a toy for you?" She asked finally with a dim voice. Perhaps she already knew the answer to that, but maybe she wanted him to give her his point of view to wash all her certainties away and replace those with more pleasant lies or coverages.

"You're my gem, ma cherie, my brightest one." He said, his voice soft and dreamy. That was it, not a toy, but a jewel, another inanimate thing to make him shine – it was like that and, sadly, it would always be so. A perfect team and a more perfect couple on the outside, for the world to see and two people who merely knew each other in private.  
It was all a charade, but really, what wasn't?  
From beginning to end, the nature of their relationship was a trick. Just like all Dreamland itself: nothing more than a trick.


End file.
